What Becomes of a One Night Stand
by chizry
Summary: COMPLETE. In response to a challenge. A small mistake can be a big miracle...and we all know what happens to onenight stands. GregSara friendship with hints of a pairing. Chapter 11 now up.
1. Mommy

**Title: **What Becomes of a One Night Stand  
**Rating:**R (for graphically described scenes)  
**Disclaimer:** Everything but the plot and ideas belong to CBS.  
**A/N:** This is my first attempt at a case-laced fic. In response to a challenge:  
1. Greg and Sara have started to become friends since his proficiency, a little while after 'Who Shot Sherlock'.  
2. Starts after Greg gets a job at the crime lab. He goes out one night to a party meets a random girl and ends up having a one-night stand (season 1).  
3. Advance to now (season 5) a few months after his proficiency he and Sara get called to a case involving a woman being beaten to death. While on scene a little girl is found.  
4. Upon instinct Greg goes through protocol, asking her questions and getting samples needed; almost feeling like he needs to be there to comfort her. Slowly people start to notice his attachment to the child.  
5. Grissom being the workaholic he is tries to finish out the case. Giving the DNA to Mia they try to find out if the child is the child of the woman found beaten to death. Finding that she is, the computer brought something startling: Greg's the father. Finding out she takes it to Grissom immediately, who gets his surprise reading the results.  
6. Finding Greg and the child in the breakroom Grissom tells Greg the results not-so quietly, as members of the team and lab techs move in and out of the room; working and looking at the little angel who seems attached to the ex-lab tech.  
7. How does Greg take it? How does the team take it? What happens to the girl? What happens when Sara starts noticing an instant change in Greg? How will the story end?  
8. MUST USE characters; Greg, Sara, Grissom, Catherine, Warrick, Nick, Mia and Hodges, other characters optional  
9. Greg/Sara friendship ends Greg/Sara  
10. any rating

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"Mommy?"

A pair of baby blue eyes peered curiously into the master bedroom, where she seemed unsurprised at the mess that littered the floor. Shards of glass and slivers of wood lay strewn all over the cheap shag carpet, poking into the little girl's feet as she walked towards the bed.

Knocking over a few bottles of discounted vodka, the little girl clutched her worn-out teddy bear closely to her chest. The oversized nightgown trailed on the ground, dirt fraying its edges.

"Mommy?"

The little girl stood at the foot of the bed, taking in the sight of a light-haired woman covered in a mass of purple and blue. Crawling higher onto the bed, the little girl moved the blonde hair from the woman's face. She prodded the woman's hip gently, shaking her harder as the woman didn't respond.

Scared now, the little girl picked up the woman's manicured hands and held it tight. Tiny tears began to splash onto the bedcover, mixing with the blood staining the sheets.

"Mommy?"

---------------------------------------------

"Who called it in?" Sara Sidle questioned as she ducked under the bright yellow crime tape surrounding the cheaply-built house.

Captain Jim Brass shook his head. "Anonymous call. Sounded like a squeaky toy on helium." Noticing the glare that Sara was shooting at him, he held his hands up in defense. "Don't look at me; that's how the operator who picked it up described the caller."

Using his flashlight, Greg Sanders examined the inside of each room and wrinkled his brow. "What are supposed to be looking at?" he queried, confused.

Brass set his mouth in a grim line. "In here." Swinging open a door that was hanging off its hinges, he looked away as Sara and Greg covered their mouths.

The room-a bedroom, she supposed-was a total wreck. On top of nearly every piece of furniture smashed or heavily damaged, nothing seemed in its place. A large floor mirror was shattered, covered in what appeared to be dried blood, and large pieces of it were still sticking out of the ground. Countless bottles of alcohol were laid opened everywhere, most of them spilled or empty. Large clumps of blonde hair stuck to the puddles of blood. Not to mention what was on the bed-Greg turned away, face turning green.

Whoever the victim was had been hit countless times, some leaving only bruises and others leaving deep-edged gashes, completely mutilating the skin. Face bashed in, the half-bald head was turned in an odd position, neck bent in several directions. Partly wrapped in a thread-bare blanket, it didn't hide the glass-scabbed wounds crisscrossing broken limbs.

It almost didn't look human.

"Oh my god," Sara breathed through her sleeve. Greg coughed and faced out in the hallway, looking ready to gag. "What happened here?"

Shrugging, the detective motioned the coroner and his crew through. "That's your job."

Entering the room, David Phillips held a face mask to his nose. "Wow." His eyes widened in horrific shock. "That's disturbing."

"All homicides are disturbing, David," Sara snapped, looking away as it finally got to her.

He nodded sadly. "Rigor has already fully developed, no obvious decomposing yet." Gently sticking a thermometer into the victim's liver, he glanced at the reading. "Seventy degrees. Body temp drops two degrees per hour, so she's been here at least twelve hours. But this place doesn't have climate control and can get really cold at night, so she could've have been here longer than that."

Greg made a face, taking pictures of the crime scene. Looking underneath the bed, something caught his eye. With his gloved hands, he pulled out a bloody brown fabric. On closer inspection, it was a-

"Teddy bear?" the younger man asked, puzzled. "What's a teddy bear doing here?"

"Why it's here doesn't matter until we get all the evidence, Greg." Sara pointed out quietly. "Just bag and tag it for now." She headed towards the closet, which seemed to be the only untouched area in the whole bedroom.

Pulling the knob, the brunette moved the clothes around. She scowled at the extremely short miniskirts and flashy camisoles. Obviously a hooker or a strip dancer, there were a lot of those in Vegas.

All of a sudden, a pair of shoes moved and the hangers dangled as something moved behind them.

Letting out a small shriek, Sara dropped her flashlight as fingers shot out of the mess and wrapped tightly around her wrist.

In a flash Greg and Brass rushed to her side, the detective pulling out his police-issued handgun. "Come out with your hands in the air," he demanded, keeping it trained at the shifting pile of clothes.

Timidly, a little girl stumbled out with a tear-streaked face. Brass put his firearm back into his holster and backed up, allowing Greg to come forward.

"Uh…hi. What's your name?" Sara asked, bending down to be at eye level with the child. The child refused to answer, instead looking at Greg with wide, wet eyes.

Sara turned to Greg, who looked as clueless as ever. Giving him a pointed look, he kneeled down to the ground. "You okay?" he tried, offering a small grin.

To the group's surprise, the girl gave him a teary smile through her snuffles and ran forward with open arms. Nearly knocking him over, the child buried her head into his jacket.

"Daddy!"


	2. Magic Tricks

A few hours later found Greg and the mysterious child sitting in the waiting room at the lab. Looking through the window, Sara watched the pair having fun together. Using the fingerprint powder and other 'cool' stuff from his kit, Greg pretended to be a magician, much to the delight of his little audience.

The two of them had managed to clean the young girl up after getting all the evidence off of her. Catherine had some of Lindsey's old clothes in her locker, so she lent it to them with a caring smile.

"Who's the kid?" a curious voice said from behind her shoulder. The brunette whirled around and came face to face with Gil Grissom.

She shrugged and turned back to the pair on the other side of the glass. Using the Luminol, the spiky-haired CSI impressed his protégé with changing 'invisible' blood into pink liquid. "They haven't found out her name yet, but Greg was going to try."

Grissom nodded somberly. "He's doing a good job, isn't he?"

Giving her supervisor an unreadable expression, Sara frowned a little at the odd question. "Of course." Seeing Greg turn his attention to the windows and wave at her, she raised her hand in a be-right-there gesture. "If you don't mind, I've got to go." She walked through the door without waiting for Grissom's reply.

Once she reached Greg, she was not too surprised to see that the girl had scooted over and clutched Greg's arm tightly at the sight of the newcomer.

Whispering something inaudible into the little girl's ear, Greg gave her a comfortable squeeze before turning to Sara. "Hey. Sara, this is Robyn with a y. Robyn, this is Sara without an h." Robyn gave Sara timid smile before ducking behind Greg.

The female CSI was awed at the child's deep trust in her colleague. "Hi there, Robyn," she cooed nervously. She had never been good with children, this light-haired angel included. "How old are you?"

After no reply, Greg gently nudged the young girl. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured.

Peeking over his shoulder, Robyn shyly held up four fingers. "Four," whispered the muffled voice.

Greg laughed and gave Robyn a hug. Sara smiled inwardly at the Kodak moment. "Would you mind if Greg took your fingerprints?"

"You mean the appearing trick? I like that one," Robyn stumbled slightly over the words, but still surprised Sara at her linguistic abilities.

"Nope, another one," Greg said cheerfully, reaching into his crime kit. With an exaggerated flourish, he pulled out a bright pink-every little girl's favorite color-ink pad with a blank fingerprint card.

Quirking an eyebrow, Sara twitched her lips into a silent grin-who knew Sanders liked pink?

"Put your hand right here," he tenderly pressed Robyn's fingers to the ink. "And then here," he finished as he pressed the girl's hand to the card. "Voila!" the spiky-haired CSI gave a mock bow to the girls' applause, Sara's in amusement and Robyn's in delight. After quickly labeling the card, he stuffed it back into his kit. "So did your mom or dad ever teach you magic tricks?"

Robyn shook her head slowly. "I don't have a daddy," she said quietly. "Mommy always went to work. Even if she was at home, people came by to help her work."

Exchanging glances, Sara and Greg understood the sad situation. This child's mother was most likely a prostitute, and gave birth to the mistake of a one-night stand.

"But Mommy said that my daddy looked like you," Robyn added brightly. "Are you?" she asked hopefully.

"Don't think so," Sara interjected, saving Greg from creating the disappointment in the girl's face.

Greg put on his best smile. "But we'll find him, don't worry. Ok? You'll be fine, I promise." Robyn awarded him with a big grin. "Here," he took out a swab. "Open your mouth and say ahhhh!"

Sticking her tongue out a bit at him, Robyn complied and Greg swabbed the inside of her small mouth. "There we go," he said proudly, handing the DNA sample to Sara.

The blue-eyed child nodded, fidgeting with the fingers in her lap. "Will you show me another magic trick?" Robyn looked at him pleadingly, eyes shining with adoration.

"Looks like you've finally got a fan," Sara smirked as Greg prepared for his next act. "I'll take these to DNA," the brunette said as she took the fingerprint card and swab.

Turning around as she entered the lab, she smiled inwardly at the sight of her friend pulling a quite-fluffy teddy bear out of thin air.

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"Well, I ran Sara's samples," Mia began, as soon as Grissom swung upon the door to the DNA lab. "And just like Robyn said, the victim is her mother."

A look of confusion crossed the older man's face. "Robyn?" he asked curiously, tilting his head a bit to the side.

"The little girl." Grasping for the report sitting on her keyboard, the dark-skinned girl held it in her hands. "Anyway, so just in case, I ran the father's DNA in the databanks, and you're not going to like what I came up with," Mia finished.

Raising an eyebrow, Grissom guessed. "A felon?"

Shaking her head, Mia showed him the report. "Worse."

The salt-and-peppered haired man slipped on his glasses, and squinted at the report. Seeing the name, he turned in concern to the uneasy DNA tech. "Houston, we have a problem."


	3. He's My Daddy

"Where's Greg?" the older man asked brusquely as he nearly ran over someone in his haste. Catherine Willows quirked an eyebrow at him, side-stepping to avoid a full-on collision.

Brushing off her ruby silk V-neck shirt, the strawberry blonde nodded her head in the direction of the break room. "Still with Robyn." At Grissom's perplexed stare, explained. "The little girl. They're like Siamese twins, one never without the other," she joked. The humor fell flat at the apprehensive look on her colleague's face. "Is something wrong?" Her forehead wrinkled in concern.

Grissom gave her a withering look. "Where are they?" he demanded calmly. Only his troubled dark eyes gave him away.

"Break room. Been in there all day. Why?" she called out as he took off full speed down the hall. He had swung open the doors to the windowed room by the time she had caught up to him. "What the hell is going on, Gil?" Entering behind Grissom, Catherine looked to see that Robyn had scattered from her coloring book and crayons in fright. The poor child was now holding Sara's hand tightly, the small knuckles turning white. Greg was nowhere in sight. "What's going on?"

Sara looked between her supervisor and her female colleague in confusion, holding the young girl clamped on her arm in an awkward hug. "Uh….what's going on?"

Catherine huffed and looked pointedly at Grissom. "That's what I've been asking."

Ignoring the women's questions, Grissom peered outside the door. "Where's Greg?" he inquired a bit harshly. Robyn cringed at his tone and strengthened her grasp on Sara. In turn, the brunette glared at the salt-n-pepper-haired man.

"You're scaring her," she snapped as the subject of all the ruckus entered the room at that precise moment.

The room was bristling with tension. Grissom was waiting for him impatiently, with both Catherine and Sara glowering at the older man. But that didn't worry him the most-his little friend was practically super glued to Sara, and appeared to be almost frightened to death. "What's with the party?" Greg asked. In unison the female CSIs nodded their heads towards Grissom.

Grissom rubbed his face wearily. "Sara, take Robyn to see Archie. Catherine, I'd like to talk to Greg alone." When neither woman made a move, the older man sighed in exasperation. "Will you two please leave?"

Robyn pointed a shaky finger at Grissom. "I don't like him, Sara," she whispered timidly. Overhearing, Catherine laughed and knelt down so that she could be at eye-level with the young girl.

"Don't worry, he scares us too sometimes," the motherly woman smiled warmly.

Mouth set in a grim line, Grissom kept a stoic face. "I need you three to leave," he repeated firmly.

After a moment, the group reluctantly left, Sara giving Greg a comforting smile before taking Robyn to sit on a nearby bench.

"Close the door."

Complying, the messy-haired CSI quietly shut the door before turning to his boss. "What's up, Grissom?"

A paper was thrust into Greg's hands, and with a puzzled glance Greg read the DNA test results. His eyes widened as he saw that the young girl was the daughter of the victim, and that the DNA database had found a match for the other set of genes. "Match found-Greg Sanders." Clearing his throat, Greg seemed to be in shock. "How is that possible?" he stammered, letting the paper fall to the ground.

Outside, Sara caught a glimpse of the text written on the paper as her friend dropped it. Next to her, Catherine knit her brow. "What does that report have to do with anything?" the older woman inquired, unable to read what was written.

Robyn looked at the two of them. "Is Daddy in trouble?" Her lip quivered nervously as she turned to them with wide eyes.

"He's not your daddy, Robyn honey," Catherine corrected softly, aqua eyes feeling compassion for the little girl. "We don't know who your father is yet." Before Robyn could say anything else, Greg's voice rang loud and clear through the crime lab.

"So you're telling me I'm the dad of this little girl?"

Silence instantly fell over those within earshot.

Dumbstruck, Catherine gaped at Sara, who paled, whether in shock or anger, one couldn't guess. As the quiet settled thickly like a London fog, a small voice piped up. "He's my daddy, of course!" Robyn grinned happily.


	4. Parenting Books

Quiet fell over the crowd, silent enough that a pin could drop and be heard echoing down the hallway. Somewhere in the back of the group, someone giggled nervously.

At that moment, Grissom chose to speak. With the silence, it was loud enough for all to hear. "Are you telling me you had a one-night stand with the victim?" They could hear the tone of mistrust ringing in his voice.

Greg must have nodded, for no reply reached the ears of the bystanders.

"And that you didn't tell-"

"What is going on here?" a voice thundered. Conrad Ecklie stormed through, the crowd parting to let him pass. Unconsciously, Robyn moved to cower behind Sara, who gave the little girl's hand a comforting squeeze. Ecklie may not have been a prize weight-champ, but he did have a daunting presence.

"Uh…" Catherine stammered uncharacteristically.

Glowering fiercely at her, the department supervisor tried to peer through the slanted blinds. "What is Gil and Sanders doing in there?" he demanded, jiggling the door handle to find that it was locked.

"Personal, sir," one of the rookie lab techs called out, instantly shrinking back into the crowd as Ecklie swept his glare over the growing group of onlookers.

"Get back to work," he barked, sending everyone sprawling to attention. Those who had gathered around disappeared in a flash, resuming their jobs. Noticing that Catherine had yet to move, he focused his attention on her. "That includes you, Willows."

Robyn let out a tiny whimper and tried to hide herself from view completely.

At that moment the break room door opened, and a red-faced Greg appeared, Grissom following behind him. The men stopped short at the sight of Ecklie.

Looking between the two of them, Ecklie tensed and pointed towards his office. "Now."

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If it weren't for such a serious situation, finding Greg Sanders in the break room surrounded by piles of parenting magazines and children books would have been a priceless moment for the lab bulletin board. As it were, nobody found it very funny at that moment.

"Where'd you get all these?" Nick asked in disbelief, mindlessly leafing through some of the magazines at the top of the pile.

Greg glared, setting the book he was reading in his lap. "Every single mother and wanna-be mother in the lab," he deadpanned, face stoic. "Where's Robyn?"

Gesturing to the restrooms, his friend replied, "Sara took her. I can't very well go in there, can I?" he drawled, trying to put some humor back into his younger colleague.

It didn't work, as Greg just frowned deeper. Shaking his head, the messy-haired CSI plopped down his book and grabbed another one to read. The words blurred together as they said the same thing over and over again-children were expensive. Children were time-consuming. Children were an emotional strain. Somehow, it was hard to believe that the angel he created could be those cookie-grabbing monsters that each and every book was describing children to be.

Nick was apologetic. "I heard what Ecklie did," the Texan said. "That sucks, man."

Not even looking up from what he was reading, Greg snorted. "Yeah. Getting kicked off a case AND being yelled at for an hour straight about something I don't even remember doing."

An awkward silence filled the room. Clearing his throat, Nick stared at a random pile, not sure how to reply. He was saved by his best friend's wonderful timing.

"Hey, Nick," Sara greeted as she was being towed along by an over-enthusiastic Robyn. "Robyn here wants to see you, Greg."

Automatically, Greg swept the little girl into a big bear hug, laughing when she nearly choked him to death with her loving arms.

"So…uh…have you figured out what you're going to do now that she'll stay at your place?" Sara asked, absent-mindedly straightening out a few of the piles.

Greg shook his head, throwing another magazine at a stack and almost knocking them all over. Here he was, holding his daughter-he couldn't quite get over the fact he was saying those two words-and his life had gone topsy-turvy in all of a few seconds.

Even with all the books and advice, he didn't know where to start. Oh, how he wished he had paid more attention to health class when he was in high school. He didn't plan to become a single father, that wasn't in any of dreams. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to take care of her?

Blonde curls popped up in the doorway. Judy, the receptionist, peeked in, looking quite nervous. "Uh…there's somebody to see you, Mr. Sanders," she anxiously announced. She stepped to the side to allow a professionally-dressed African American woman saunter into the room.

Sara and Nick traded matching looks of surprise. "Excuse me, but who are you?" Nick questioned cautiously.

Greg just stared.

The stranger smiled, almost mockingly. "I'm Anya Torqa, from Social Services. I'm here to take Robyn Altendorf away."


	5. Taken Away

"Social services?" Nick asked, confused. "Whatever for?"

Anya's smirk grew wider-and Sara's distaste grew with it. "Robyn must come with me until we find a legal guardian for her," the dark-skinned woman explained rather snidely.

Nick's dark chocolate eyes widened in surprise. "But she's already got one," he said.

"Oh?"

"Greg Sanders here," the Texan gestured towards Greg, who was watching the whole affair with an apprehensive face. "Tell her, Greggo."

The CSI-in-question nodded. "Uh…yeah. I'm…" He looked to Sara for help.

"He's her biological father," the brunette explained.

"Ah, I see," Anya took another step into the break room, and looked around, as if she was inspecting a promising foster family's house. "So you are a compromise to the Altendorf case?"

Frowning, Nick moved protectively between the Social Service worker and his friends. "That's none of your business, ma'am."

"On the contrary, Mr…"

"Stokes."

"Mr. Stokes." Her white smile seemed permanently plastered on her face. "Nevertheless, it is my business. I'm taking Robyn with me and there is nothing you or any of your colleagues can do about it," Anya said icily.

"But he's family. She doesn't need to go to a foster family," Sara protested. Remembering how the system destroyed her and her brother after their family's demise, she hoped for Robyn's sake that the little girl would be spared. The system was no place for children, even if their parents were uncaring and unforgiving-the government was usually just as bad, if not worse.

"But he's clearly irresponsible," Anya replied smoothly. "A one-night stand with a prostitute ruined his little girl's life." The expression on the woman's face was short of condescending.

Greg's mouth tightened into a small snarl. "But she's my child," the younger man objected.

"Yet according to the law, Mr. Sanders, she's not yours until the state says so. And she belongs to the state until you're considered legal."

"But they're biological," Sara exclaimed as Robyn cowered in fright behind her and Nick.

"I'm sorry, Ms…"

"Sidle."

"Ms. Sidle. But what the law says goes. Come with me, Robyn," ordered Anya, reaching for the child, who instantly screamed bloody murder.

"No!" the blue-eyed girl wailed, running underneath the large metal table.

Crouching down to be at eye level, Anya tried to sooth the stricken girl with false words. "It's okay, Robyn. I'm taking you to a nice family for a little while until your dad can take you home," the dark-skinned woman cooed. She held out her hand.

Without any second thought, Robyn bit down on the lady's fingers, producing a loud yelp.

"Ouch! Okay, that's it. Like it or not, Robyn is to be coming with me." Picking up the thrashing girl carefully in her in her arms, Anya stormed out with the group following right behind.

"Wait! Don't take her!" Greg cried out, attracting the attention of the lab as he ran down the hallway towards the elevator.

His pleas fell deaf against the solid silvery doors as they began to slide shut. The last thing the messy-haired CSI heard before the doors closed completely was the sobs of his daughter.

"Daddy! No! I don't want to go!"


	6. Stuck in the Middle

Three hours.

Three agonizingly slow hours had passed, and all he had to show for it was a major cell phone bill and much frustration. If he didn't know the system, he could almost say that they were purposefully ignoring his calls, Those sympathetic looks from Sara and Nick didn't help any either-and if it wasn't for the fact that he knew that they were helping him all they could, he'd be downright infuriated.

Three hours without Robyn. For only knowing that little angel a bit longer than that, it hurt a hell of a lot to not have his own daughter.

Even Grissom was mildly concerned. For the sake of office politics and one Conrad Ecklie the older man couldn't and wouldn't be involved, but he was doing what he could to make things right.

And so far, nothing worked. So now Greg was resorting to having a staring match with his no longer trust cell phone.

"If you keep doing that, it's not going to ring," an amused but motherly voice broke him out of his reverie.

He thumped his head hard against the table in response.

"I've been there, you know." Greg glanced up to see Catherine smiling softly down at him. The strawberry-blonde sat down across from him, watching him with keen eyes. "When they might have taken Lindsay away, I didn't know what I would do without her."

Shifting anxiously in his chair, he stared at his hands. After a moment of silence, he shook his head. "If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't be in Social Services," the CSI muttered quietly.

"If it wasn't for you, she wouldn't even be here in the first place, Greggo." When the lab rat didn't say anything, she huffed and got up. "Tell you what. I'll see if I can pull a few strings and get you back together with her, alright?"

Immediately Greg jumped up and gave Catherine a huge bone-crushing hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The older woman laughed and gave his shoulder a caring squeeze. "Now what was that Social Service woman's name?"

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By the time the next shift had arrived, hope had sunk lower than the Titanic. True to her word, Catherine had indeed called Anya Torqa with no luck so far.

Gone too far into misery to do anything constructive, Greg had been ordered home. Being the stubborn man they knew he was, it took both Warrick and Nick to haul him out of the lab short of kicking and screaming like a spoiled kid. It didn't prevent him from getting out some choice words about Anya before the guys could throw him into the elevator.

Of course that set off a whole new bunch of gossip.

Word had gone around the crime lab-for the grapevine was a quickly growing one-and now everyone knew the situation. Or at least thought they knew. All around, their friend was being shamed and jilted and scandalized, and nobody really seemed to care.

Except for Sara.

Sara didn't know what was worse for Greg: being condemned for having a bastard child, or being considered too incompetent to raise one.

And the sad part?

He believed every word of it.

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"Ms. Sidle?" A nauseatingly familiar voice rang out into the darkness from behind as the brunette entered the well-lighted lobby of her apartment complex.

Inwardly groaning, Sara turned around and her face paled in shock. Holding hands with Anya Torqa was a familiar blonde-haired angel, gazing tearfully at her. "I'm afraid I don't understand. What are you doing here?" Sara's chocolate eyes narrowed in confusion.

"You are on the list as a possible short-term foster care parent, correct?" Ms. Torqa questioned sharply.

"Yes, but-"

The dark-skinned woman gave a chilly smile. "Then it's settled. Robyn Altendorf will reside in your apartment until further notice in a week or two." Thrusting Robyn into Sara's arms like a rag doll, Anya spun around quickly on her heels. Upon second though, she half-turned and gave a sickly smile. "Oh, and one condition. Gregory Sanders cannot have any communication with the child until he has been approved by the state." Then in a blink, she disappeared into the Las Vegas lights.

A small embrace around Sara's knees jolted the woman out of her dazed state. "I wanna see Greg!" Robyn whimpered, tears creating dark stains on her now-foster mother's jeans. Sara nodded mutely, but inside everything was in turmoil.

Fuck.

What was she going to do now?

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**A/N: **Assume that this all happens before Sara gets that not-on-record DUI, since the system probably does not allow blemished records in foster parents.


	7. Apartment Apprehension

Friday night's shift was a gloomy and downhearted affair. The usually happy-go-lucky Greg was moody, with a fiery temper to match. Not even halfway through the shift, he had already snapped at half of the lab and almost bit off Hodge's head. Even hard-hearted Ecklie was extremely wary of the CSI's newfound disposition.

Nick himself was trying to stay out of harm's way, fortunately succeeding. Greg was keeping to himself now, a dark shadow over his face. It didn't go unnoticed that the lab rat turned field mouse kept pacing by a certain brunette's office, looking for her.

And Sara was nowhere to be found.

"She hasn't come in at all," Judy had whispered to him when he asked. She too, knew that the only thing that kept Greg sane at that moment was Sara.

With a resigned sigh, Nick thanks her and grabbed his truck keys. Hell if he was losing a friend to the cruelty of the world-he wasn't going to let one go missing.

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Catherine held up a ratty fur-trimmed notebook. Flipping through the smudged pages with gloved fingers, the strawberry-blonde let out a small noise of disgust. "Our girl had more clients than I had in a week's audience on the Strip."

"A dime a dozen" her colleague quipped sarcastically. Warrick took the small pad from her hands, scrutinizing them. Giving a low whistle, he set them down. "These are all high-profile people."

"More like thousands a dozen," Catherine smirked ruefully at this. "I'll take her paycheck any day," Sifting through the bank statements, the CSI frowned. "With that kind of payroll, you'd think she'd have a bigger nest egg. And nest," she added as an afterthought.

Warrick shook his head. "Drugs?"

"Doc didn't find any signs of use. No evidence at the crime scene either. Tox screen came up clean."

She was surprised when the dark-skinned CSI grinned knowingly, holding up an untouched box of evidence. Without a word he dropped it back down onto the layout table and pulled out a roll of bloody duct tape.

Her eyes widened. "Where'd you guys find that?" She examined it in impressed disbelief, turning it over carefully in her hands. Four clear fingerprints stood out vividly in the brown sea of dried blood.

"Nick found it in the trailer park dumpster." His mocha eyes twinkled slyly. "He lost the coin toss."

Laughing lightly, Catherine smiled and set to work on lifting the fingerprints. Maybe they could finally solve this.

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Back in her apartment, Sara wished she really had disappeared. If she had, she wouldn't be having so many problems at the moment-especially one that couldn't go away.

"When can I see Daddy?" Robyn protested sleepily as she snuggled into the bed covers. Her blue

Her foster mother smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll see if he can see you soon," promised Sara, lying through her teeth. Tucking the small girl underneath the sheets, she waited until Robyn was asleep to silently close the guest room door.

Plodding tiredly down the hallway in her oversized T-shirt and boyish shorts, Sara plopped herself down on the sofa and closed her eyes.

"What am I going to do now?" she muttered to herself for what must have been the hundredth time that evening.

She dozed off a bit, the day's events getting to her. Before she could fully fall asleep, however, Sara heard a small tap.

"Sar? You there?"

Oh no.

"C'mon Sara, I know you're in there. The light's on."

Before she could do or say anything, there was a sound of a key jingling into a lock. A familiar face poked through the crack in the door, worn-out but reassured.

"Hey, Sara. You alright?" Nick closed the door behind him, coming closer to her spot on the couch.

Nodding mutely, Sara smiled in what she hoped was a convincing answer. "Yeah. Just felt a little sick, that's all." Her smile grew wider to hopefully prove her point.

However, the Texan wasn't fooled at all. "You never stay home just because you're sick," Nick commented suspiciously, one of his dark eyebrows quirking upwards as he studied Sara's expression carefully.

"Well, I did this time, okay, Nick?"

"Uncle Nicky? What are you doing here?"

Horror crossed Sara's features as her gaze settled on a small figure standing behind her friend. There was Robyn in her flannel pajamas, clutching her teddy-bear and staring at the pair of adults in confusion.

Nick froze, turning around to confirm his suspicions. As Sara leapt up and tried to elude him, he grabbed her wrist and whirled her around to face him. "She's here? She's here and you didn't even tell Greg?"

Mixed emotions flashed in her eyes, from remorse to trepidation and distress. "I can't. See, Anya had dropped her off and now I'm her foster mother for god knows how long and-" Sara began to babble, then stopped. "Let go please, Nicky."

He shook his head, fingers grasping slightly tighter. "What's going on, Sar?"

Wincing, she tried to pull away. When it failed, she heaved a sigh, and sat back down. Only then did Nick let go, instead opting to take Robyn in his arms.

In a low voice, she mumbled in his ear, "Greg's not allowed to see her."

Nodding in understanding, Nick sighed and gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze. "So what are you going to do about it?"

She shook her head, drowsily fading in and out of well-deserved slumber. "No idea what to do," mumbled Sara, laying her head comfortably on Nick's shoulder. The brunette hadn't shed a tear, but her downcast eyes were glistening.

He rubbed the bare flesh of her arms affectionately. "We'll figure it out in the morning, alright?" Nick's voice drawled comfortingly, settling like a warm blanket. "We'll be okay, Sar."

When Sara didn't answer, Nick chanced a glance at her sleeping face. He smiled at her peaceful expression, noting how it didn't betray the effects of the day. Robyn was between them, snoring lightly.

"We'll be okay," he repeated softly. Resting his head kindly on hers, he eventually fell asleep.

-----------------------------------------

Greg wearily trudged down the dimly-lit hallway of Sara's apartment complex. Three-sixteen. Three-eighteen. Three-twenty…aha. Three-twenty-two.

Knocking on the wooden door, he waited for a minute, not hearing anything. He frowned. Sara wasn't in trouble, was she?

He turned the knob, becoming instantly cautious when it slid open silently. Poking his head in through the doorway, the shaggy-haired CSI swept his bloodshot eyes over a spotless kitchen. He gave an inward sigh of relief as he saw the top of Nick's head over the upholstery of the couch-that must mean that Sara was safe. Tiptoeing further into the room, he slid the door shut with a small click.

Nick didn't even flinch.

The younger man grinned. Just like the cowboy to be such a deep sleeper. Walking over on the other side of the partition separating the kitchen nook from the rest of the apartment, he got ready to throw a pillow on Nick's face-and froze.

"Robyn?" Greg exclaimed a bit too loudly, for both of his colleagues jolted awake, culpable expressions manifesting on their faces.

As for the blue-eyed angel, she stayed blissfully asleep, worn out by the events and excitement of the day.

"I can explain, Greg," began Sara carefully, knowing that he would have immediately taken it the wrong way.

Right she was.

"Sara?" Her friend's voice wavered a bit, creeping higher as his gaze moved from one person to another. Realization dawned on his features, and Greg clenched his fists angrily. "Nick."

"It's not what you think, man," Nick tried, getting up from his position to face Greg. Sara's hand was clutching his wrist, telling him to let her handle it.

Fury flashing in his dark eyes, Greg just stood there, skin becoming red under his emotions. Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, he tensed. "I know exactly that it's what I think, Nick," Greg ground out between clenched teeth. "Didn't know you had it in you."

If the situation wasn't getting so out of hand, Sara would have laughed at the hilarity of the idea. Her and Nick together, is that what Greg thought?

Apparently so.

"When were you guys going to even tell me my own daughter was here with you guys?" Flickering his eyes at the sleeping child, Greg softened his gaze a fraction of a muscle. "Don't tell me you adopted her," he muttered scornfully.

Nick felt rather than heard Sara gasp at the low insult. Risking a glance over his shoulder at her, he saw that the words bit a nasty mouthful into her pride.

"Is that what you think?" Sara cried out, unknowingly waking Robyn up. "I didn't even know I was going to be her foster mother, Greg! You can't even see her," the brunette said a bit more quietly. "The social worker said-"

Her sentence was cut off by Greg's loud huff of incredulity. "Are you kidding me, Sara?"

Sara's eyebrows knit in confusion. "What?"

Greg barked a short laugh, devoid of any amusement. His usually sunny temperament seemed to have faded, replaced with a sardonic man of bitter feelings. "You're telling me that you, advocate of the poor abused children, aren't even going to let this girl, who is rightfully my daughter, not see me?" Gesturing between his two soon-to-be-ex friends, his mouth turned into a sour grin. "And then not tell me that you're dating."

"If she did, Robyn wouldn't be here. You shouldn't even be here," Nick said quietly, not missing the fact that said child was awake and listening with one eye open. He chose to ignore his colleague's last comment. "Sar's doing her best, Greggo."

Looking between Sara and Nick, Greg shook his head. "Whatever. Just stay the hell away from me." Giving the seemingly-asleep Robyn a kiss on the top of her hair, he twisted around on his heels. Right away Robyn began to wail hysterically, running after him as he stomped out.

A glass cup shattered as the door slammed with a resounding bang.

Nick pulled both girls into a hug, automatically feeling guilt-ridden. Sara was crying too.


	8. Emotions Over Evidence

"Brit was just a good-for-nothing whore," Jaron Evans said incredulously. He was-at the moment, anyway-the top suspect in the Altendorf case. The last one to see her alive, the sandy-haired blonde claimed that their victim was just a random girl he picked up off the Strip.

Catherine sighed heavily, rolling her eyes towards the investigation room ceiling. It was the same in every case: the strippers and working girls were always considered the scum of lowlifes, while the cheating husbands or boyfriends thought they were the very gods themselves.

Assholes, they were.

"That good-for-nothing whore was murdered, Mr. Evans, and you're looking at a first degree murder charge," warned Brass, the sound of a promising threat ringing through his voice. So far his questioning only got that the victim's name was Britney and that she had this piece of crap on a weekly tab.

"Who cares?" Ill-concealed boredom could be detected in Jaron's voice. "Nobody cares about some slut who opens her legs for half the town."

Leaning towards him from the opposite side of the table, the strawberry blonde's face in hidden fury. "This crime lab cares, Mr. Evans. You may not care, but we are going to bring her killer to justice."

He shrugged, coolly taking out a cigarette and lighting it. "Not my problem," Jaron drawled, taking a long draw and letting the smoke swirl in the stale air.

Brass slammed his fists on the table, making the other two jump slightly in surprise. "She's got a kid, Mr. Evans. A four-year old kid without her mother anymore. You want any of your kids, god forbid, find you sliced up on the bed?" At this, their suspect winced at the harsh words but didn't reply. "And right now, it's your problem. Take him away, boys, and put out that goddamn cig," the older man instructed to the two guards waiting by the door.

Jaron just yawned and put out the cigarette in the ashtray in the center of the table. "I didn't kill her, man. But the world's a better place without that bitch, good as her pussy was," he called out as the uniformed officers took him down to the holding cells.

Once the arrogant man was out of earshot, Brass shook his head. "Judge ain't gonna let us hold him for more than overnight with the evidence we have, Catherine," the detective cautioned as Catherine got up from her seat.

She nodded understandingly, picking up the crime scene and evidence photos they had laid out in front of Jaron. "We don't have any other leads, though. Grissom's running himself to the ground trying to find this perp."

At this Brass smirked. "The whole lab's turned into a damn soap opera, that's why." Jerking his thumb across the hallway, Catherine let her gaze travel to Greg and Sara, who were staying far apart from each other as they analyzed the items found in Britney's trailer.

Since Lindsay's school-Butterfield Academy-had a day off, Catherine had gladly offered her daughter to baby-sit Robyn for the night. Accepting gratefully, Sara had been incredibly relieved at not having to bring the four-year-old in.

Watching from a distance, the azure-eyed CSI frowned at what she was seeing. Normally Greg would be all over Sara-eyes or otherwise.

But tonight…

No, tonight it was like somebody put an elephant in the room between them.

A thoughtful expression on her face, Catherine just watched them-and wondered.

-------------------------------

Entering the evidence room, Warrick's eyebrows tightened as the temperature in the room suddenly got several degrees colder compared to the rest of the lab. "Uh….so what do you guys have?"

For a moment, there was stony silence. Sara finally spoke up, somewhat timidly-which was unusual for the usually stubborn and outspoken brunette.

"I found a few short blonde hairs on all of the pillowcases on the bed," she explained as the evidence bag was passed over to him.

Quirking an eyebrow, Warrick's eyes quickly met Catherine's on the opposite side of the glass. Turning his attention back to the pair, he sighed. "Not too unusual. 'Specially since our girl took her work home with her."

Sara shrugged, diverting her gaze back to a bloody bed sheet to avoid Greg's incessant glare.

"How 'bout you, Greggo?" asked Warrick, realizing that Sara had nothing further.

Greg's face burst into a hopeful smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Found a threatening letter." Handing it over to Warrick in its evidence bag, Greg's shoulders sagged a little, seeing Sara's dejected look. "Made by Cath's suspect, no less," he added. "So this case may finally be closed."

Warrick shot him an admonished look. "Watch it, Greg. Don't let Griss hear you," he said half-jokingly. That was one of Grissom's top ten rules: never assume anything.

Passive expression on his face, Greg shrugged nonchalantly. "We pretty much have the cat in the bag now."

Giving the youngest CSI a whatever-you-say look, the dark-skinned CSI gave a small comforting smile to Sara, who gave him a tiny upturn corner of the lips in return. "Keep on searching, guys," Warrick encouraged as he wandered off to find Grissom.

Edgy silence filled the room again as Sara and Greg refused to meet each other's glances. It wasn't until Sara found something that they said the first words to each other in a day.

"I found one of the murder weapons!" exclaimed Sara, turning a paring knife over in her hands. Greg looked up in shock.

"What?" he asked a bit dumbly, staring at the light glinting off the metal blade. "This is the thing that slit her throat?"

"The one and the same. If the bloody fingerprints have anything to say about it."

Dark eyes widening, Greg finally grinned-his trademark genuine grin. "Yes!" He pumped his fist in the air before realizing that he was supposed to be enraged at her. Sara just stared at him, unsure of whether how long his mood was going to last.

Ah, to hell with that.

Swooping her into his bear hug, he smiled into her hair. "I'm so sorry, Sara," he whispered against the curls. "For yelling at you-and Nick-the other night. It's not like me at all."

A small smile graced her face, stress ebbing away as he continued to hold her. "It's okay…I would've been mad too," she comforted.

"I could never really stay that angry at you anyway. But I still don't get it. Why can't I see Robyn?"

Explaining it to him, Sara stepped out of his embrace when a fiery look glazed over his face. "Lindsay's watching Robyn tonight."

"That Anya is such a-"

Somebody behind them cleared their throat loudly.

Whirling around, the couple saw a sharply-dressed Ms. Wicked Witch of the West standing in the doorway, folder clutched tightly in her manicured fingers. She was tapping her Gucci-heeled toes with annoyance, looking at Greg to finish his sentence.

"Strict social worker?" he supplied lamely, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a Mack truck.

Anya glared at him, lips pursed tightly. Stepping further into the room, she swept a glance towards the brunette, who was observing the whole affair with a wary eye.

"Why are you here?" Sara inquired nervously, hoping that the woman didn't bear bad news-such as Greg couldn't parent Robyn.

Witheringly, the social worker shot her a condescending glower. "Patience, Ms. Sidle. But I am here to inform you all of Mr. Sanders' evaluation."

"And?" Nearly hopping from excitement, Greg was on tenterhooks. Sara wasn't nearly as excited; after all, it was possible that his hopes would be shot down.

"Contain yourself, Mr. Sanders. The state had reviewed your file and credentials. And it has been determined that-"


	9. Not Over Yet

In the thirty seconds too long it took for the social worker to finish her sentence, Greg's heart was beating furiously, hanging on to every word the woman had to say.

--------------------------------

Behind the one-way glass, two of the CSI team observed a long-awaited conversation: where they caught the perp.

"We've got him nailed," Catherine said proudly as Brass presented their newfound evidence to Jaron. She and Warrick watched in unconcealed glee as the suspect's face turned pallid, then purpled with ire, a betraying sign of guilt. His icy crystal eyes kept straying to the items strewn in front of him, mocking him of his crime.

The bloody knife, the letter, numerous odds and ends covered in blood, and his ring lay on the table, taped securely in evidence bags. Even if he asked for a lawyer, there was no doubt in anybody's mind that he would end up with a life sentence.

Jaron's hands clenched, knuckles turning white as he gripped the edges of the chair. There was nothing left to save himself, so he let it all loose. "Fucking whore. I lost my job because of her."

The detective merely raised one of his eyebrows, giving the younger man a curious look. "And how's that, Mr. Evans?"

Glaring furiously, the blonde man threw his fist hard into the metal table, creating a small dent. Brass noticed the strength, but didn't comment. "Well, Mr. Evans?"

Sighing to relieve some frustration, Jaron ran a hand through his hair and frowned. "That bitch had the nerve to come into the shop where I work. And you know what she did? Bitch picked a fight about the pay I gave her the night before, got rough. My boss fired my ass on the spot. Said he didn't want any psycho girlfriends ruinin' the rep of his shop. Asshole. But Brit's dead, and the world's better without her." He finished triumphantly, a wicked smirk gracing his lips.

Brass slammed the palms of his hands against the table, causing Jaron to wince. "Her daughter is not better without her. But guess what," the detective snarled. "The world's definitely better without you. Take him away, boys."

Catherine and Warrick watched smugly as their suspect was dragged away in handcuffs before entering the interrogation room. "That son of a bitch killed her just because of his job?" the Afro-American exhaled a noise of disgust. "Now that's what I call stupidity."

His colleague only shook her head somewhat ruefully. "His stupidity cost Robyn's mother."

Warrick nodded, Catherine's words ringing all-too-true. "So where are the others? I thought they would've watched the interview with us."

Shrugging, the blonde brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "Nick got called to a scene and Greg and Sara ran into that Torqa woman."

"The really rude one?"

"That's the one."

Eyebrows knitting together, Warrick gazed down the hallway where the woman in question was standing. "What does she need with the two of them?"

Following his stare, Catherine replied, "Something about Greg's evaluation."

"Ah. Think he'll get Robyn?"

--------------------------------

He lost her.

Those three words were a nightmare mantra in his head-Greg just stared blindly at the social worker, trying not to believe that he had been turned down.

"You're not qualified to be her legal guardian. I'm sorry, Mr. Sanders." The tone in Anya's voice said anything but-it rang loud and clear that the older woman was delighted with this arrangement.

Moving her eyes between the two, Sara cleared her throat. "So where is Robyn going to live now, Ms. Torqa?" she feebly attempted to appear professional, but the fire in her eyes showed otherwise.

Smirk playing across her painted lips, the dark-skinned woman rifled through her papers, clearly for show. "Well…she'll be staying with you, Ms. Sidle," she paused for a dramatic effect. "But only for a short time. Until we can find better parents for her."

Sara quirked a dark eyebrow, an annoyed expression on her face. "Who else would be better than me? I've got a good paycheck, a good home, and she can see her father whenever she wants."

A skeptical laugh escaped Anya's smirk. "Sorry, but the system looks for married couples who work like the average human being."

"Are you saying I'm not a normal human being?"

"You do the state of Nevada justice, Ms. Sidle. I'm merely stating the facts that you aren't wholly suited for this position."

"Like hell I am."

"Forget it." Sara looked beside her; the brunette had forgotten that Greg was with them. "It's no use," the usually upbeat CSI added dejectedly. Pulling sadly on Sara's elbow, he nodded his head towards the interrogation room.

"We can't give up, Greg." Turning back to Anya, Sara yanked her arm from her friend's grasp. "Robyn is rightfully his!"

"Not to the state." A haughty expression crossed the woman's face, an expression that Sara was dying to slap right off.

As Greg yanked her away with amazing strength, her chocolate eyes met with Anya's frosty mocha ones.

It wasn't over yet.

Not by a long shot.

--------------------------------


	10. Only One Idea

"Does Greg know he looks like a chicken with his head cut off into a million pieces?" Hodges commented casually as the CSI-in-question walked into another door for the third time. Three pairs of eyes watched as he absently wandered into the locker room, seemingly not noticing the black and purple bruise forming on his forehead.

He received cold glares in return from the pair of CSIs standing in front of him. "Shut up, David," Sara snapped rather testily as she grabbed the trace reports from his hands.

"Just saying," said Hodges defensively, holding his hands, palms outwards, in an 'I-surrender' gesture. His eyes smirked, however, in his traditional I-kiss-Ecklie's ass sense. "But he looks like an idiot-" Nick's narrowed eyes caused the trace lab tech to shut his mouth and turn towards a different subject, which he did with supercilious ease. "Okay then. You guys are all set." Flashing them his customary half-smirk, Hodges turned back to his loads.

Once they were out of earshot, Nick took Sara's arm and pulled her gently towards him. To her questioning gaze, the Texan sighed deeply. "Hodges is right, though, Sar, Greggo's a wreck."

Flashing chocolate eyes met his dark ones. "You think I don't know that, Nicky?"

Nick shrugged helplessly, letting her arm go. "There has to be a solution to this." Deep down, though, it was useless-Robyn truly did belong with a competent and loving family, even if that might not include Greg.

"Got any ideas to share then?"

Wisely keeping his mouth shut, her friend followed her down to the locker room, where Catherine was applying an ice pack to the large bruise Greg received just above his right brow. Both looked up as the couple entered through the doorway, and the strawberry blonde shot them a motherly glance. The entire lab had heard by now, and from personal experience, the older woman knew exactly what Greg was going through.

But for Greg…

Everything was going to hell in a handbasket.

Patting his knee affectionately, Catherine exchanged concerned looks with the other two before leaving. "Hope you feel better, Greggo," she said soothingly before heading towards Grissom's office.

Lowering herself on the seat next to Greg, Sara sat there, looking at him, with an incomprehensible expression splayed across her face. "Not that it's much, but you can stop by and see Robyn any time you want, Greg," the brunette offered softly, cringing inwardly at how flat her condolences sounded even to her own ears.

"Thanks." His voice was terse, emotionless as the dripping ice pack made a puddle on the floor.

In edgy silence, the three stayed there for a few moments, mulling over the day's events. Then suddenly, the ice pack slid with a slap to the cold concrete floor, Greg's hands open limply. Whipping their heads towards the sound, Sara and Nick traded perplexed expressions and faced their friend.

Hopeful hazel eyes met Sara's.

"Marry me."


	11. Thank You Very Much

**A/N:** Thanks for all who've reviewed (would list you all by name, but I don't want to be on hit list). Last chapter reposted-enjoy! Oh, and thank you to ObessedTWFan-I couldn't quite remember the line.

-----------------------------------------

"Thanks for having Lindsay watch Robyn for us," Sara muttered quietly to Catherine, watching as Nick swept the sleeping girl into his strong arms. The older woman had the night off, thanks to much hand cramping and Grissom's paperwork on her part.

Holding up her hands in a don't-thank-me gesture, the strawberry blonde shook her head. "It's no problem. Linds was glad to watch her." Darting her cerulean eyes between her two colleagues, Catherine quirked an eyebrow. "So where's-"

"Greg? Pulling double on his case," replied Sara, taking Robyn from Nick, being cautious as to not jolt the child awake. As his best friend took the precious bundle from him, the cowboy CSI wrapped a loving arm around her shoulders.

"It's gonna be triple in an hour," Nick added, chuckling. He and Sara were lucky-their case that night was an open and shut robbery, and therefore Grissom had sent them home early to Robyn. Unluckily for Greg, he and the others had an arson case.

"Thought he'd be here with you guys. After all, he's-"

"Where's Daddy?" interrupted a quiet whisper, muffled by the silken fabric of Sara's maroon shirt.

Adjusting her hold on her daughter, the brunette smiled as she looked down at long blonde hair.. "Daddy's at work, sweetie."

Holding back matching smirks, Catherine and Nick exchanged amused glances. "She's got you wrapped around her finger, Sar," the Texan couldn't help but grin at how motherly Sara had become the last few weeks.

"Thought he would have come home with his wife," commented Catherine, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

Sara laughed lightly, a pleasant expression on her face. "Who knew?"

It was hard to believe-at first. After all, who knew that the once-labrat would actually marry, let alone marry the one woman he was always serenading with cheesy pick-up lines?

But it was more surprising when that one woman said yes.

Grand affair it was not: no lavish dresses, no fanciful wedding receptions. Just the graveyard shift, them, Robyn, and a badly-impersonating Elvis.

And Sara had only one thing to say about one-night stands:

Thank you, thank you very much.


End file.
